Growing Wings
by RalphieIsALord
Summary: Smauglock highschool AU. John needed to find freedom. His new school was a relieving change. Then everything went wrong. Enemies he thought he had escaped are returning and he faces some of his worst fears. Now the only person he can trust is Sherlock, but even then, can there ever be a happy ending for John? I might change a genre to romance in the future. Reviews are welcome
1. First

This story would not exist if it weren't for my friend, Kate, who threw out the idea for a premise. So I dedicate this fanfiction to her.

**Thanks Kate**

This story might take a long time for new chapters to be posted, but hang in there. I promise I won't abandoned it!

* * *

><p>First day of school. A new school. John wasn't nervous though. He was actually quite happy. Happy to get away.<p>

Away from the teasers.

The jerks.

The mockers.

The bullies.

He was ready for a fresh start. His move was simple. Sure it was a new house and a new neighborhood, but nothing changed in his family. Or how they though of him. His parents and older sister know him as a nerdy, independent, strong, straight 15 year old who was starting grade 10.

And he liked it that way. His reputation and his grades were excellent and he had lots of ignorant friends. Right up until June.

Then he decided to tell one. That one told another. And the other told the rest. And the rest told the whole school. The whole school told his sister. His sister pretended to be ignorant. John liked that. His sister never brought it up when she got the news.

As for his "friends", John never wanted to speak to them again. They became the teasers, the jerks, the mockers, and the bullies - the enemy. That is why he wanted that new school. That is why he told them. He might not see them ever again. And he new he wouldn't be telling anyone this time. Maybe one day he would tell someone, but it would have to be the one.

John pulled his hand-me-down brown back pack over his shoulder. Ignorance really was bliss, wasn't it. No one knows, no risks. John took the first step towards his new school, finally leaving his new house. To some extent, he did miss his old friends. Thorin had shared quite the few laughs with John. It made him trustworthy. That was a miscalculation.

John kicked a rock on the side walk. It slipped across the frosty way, like a flat rock skipping on the suface of calm water, until it skidded right off the curb and into the gutter. It just reminded John how fast a secret can slip from lips. John saw another stone. He slammed his foot down on it and that rock flew. He watched it glid down the icy walkway with such ease. It rocketed right to the next block, where it slid onto the road. For a moment, John was mesmerized by how far that rock had gone straight - until a car crushed it under its tire.

John crossed the road, jumping over the dirty slush that was mushed to the curbs. He reached the other side of the road and looked up for the first time during his first trek to school.

Baker Secondary; John's new high school. It was an old thing, more of a castle, but didn't seem to be falling apart by any means. In fact, it looked newly renovated, with the new blue paint on the outer walls and sharp white doors and window frames.

Many other kids were beginning to file through the doors, mostly in groups of two and three. It made John feel so out of place, seeing kids laughing and smiling with their life long friends that are so excited to get back to school.

Yes, John was excited, but as he walked through the front doors, the intimidation began to overwhelm him. He began to slow down, looking at the high cieling of the main hall. So many smaller halls branched from all around the central hall and kids were buzzing around, looking for instructions on where to go. John looked up to notice 3 more floors that had barred balconies circling the main hall. John felt pretty small in there. John had never been dubbed "the tallest in his grade", but everyone just felt that much taller here.

"whoa," John mumbled to himself, but the words barely left his tongue as he was bumped from behind. He stumble forward, then turned to see what had happened, taking one step back that he was about to regret taking.

"ah!" John lifted his right foot and saw a glimps of another retract from beneath. He turned back around to see a dark girl with frizzy, but tame, curly hair. John wasn't surprised to be looking up at her.

"I'm sorry," was his immediate reaction. At first she scowled, but saw the anxious expression on his face, and loosened up with a put on smile.

"that's ok. I'm Sally. I'm in grade 10. Are you one of the new grade 8 students?" she asked. John raised an eyebrow, seeing how played on this all was. She didn't want to be here right now; he could tell.

"actually, I'm in grade 10 as well," John said, forcing a smile.

"oh," she said distastfully. "You are pretty short for a grade 10." John just wanted to ball a fist and throw one at her. Everyone said that. Every god damn person thought he looked younger than he really was.

"but I am new," John said, keeping his cool. "and, quite frankly, I am very lost."

"wonderful," she said sarcastically. "I can show you to your first class and your locker. Your teacher can show you the rest."

"ok, thank you," John said with a smile. Sally smiled back and quickly started through the hordes of children. John followed her down the second hallway wing that was attached to the main hall.

"Can I have the paper you were sent in the mail?" she asked, still speed walking. John fumbled around in his pocket.

"this one?" he said, producing a folded up piece of paper. Sally plucked it from his fingers and unfolded it. She scanned it over quickly.

"room 221. You have Mrs. Hudson for Social Studies," Sally told him.

"is she nice?" john asked.

"bundle of joy," she said flatly. John scratched his head as she handed the paper back to him.

She turned left, John turned left. She turned right, John turned right. Then Sally went up the stairs, John went up the stairs. Sally turned left, John turned left. She stopped. John almost bumped right into her, again.

"here is grade 10 Socials class," she said, turned around and walked away.

"wait a second!" John called out to her. Sally turned around, arms crossed. She was so intimidating like that. Stern and expectant. John was silent for a second before he swallowed and said, "what about my locker?"

"right there," she pointed across the hall beside a boy who was at another locker. "Number 2666." As soon as she replied, she left. John looked through the glass window of his class, only seeing a few students sitting around, and decided not to go in there yet. He looked at his locker. That boy had his locker right beside John's. He walked over to his locker as confidently as possible, acing the combination first try. The boy beside his locker was tall and thin. He wore quite dark clothes and he looked like he didn't want to be disturbed. John dumped his bag in his locker then shut it.

He could feel prying eyes burning holes into his left side. John gave a sideways looks at the boy. From beneath the dark, thick curls, the boy's eyes flared intensely. As soon as he saw John look back, the boy quickly turned away into his locker. John then thought it was a good idea to go to his class now. He quickly marched across the hall and opened the classroom door.

Upon opening that door, everyone looked up at John. All the eyes were fixed on him like moths to a big bright light. The teacher wasn't in the room yet, and there wasn't a sound coming from anyone. One group of kids, 2 boys, smiled at him, then said, "Hey Sherlock, come sit with us."

John was utterly confused. Who did they think he was, some fictional character from some fictional book? Then, John realized they were looking past him. He looked over his shoulder and saw that curly haired boy who owned the neighboring locker to himself glaring at the two boys.

"No," the boy said rather bluntly and strutted over to the back of the room where he picked an empty table to slam his books down on. The one boy said to the other, "I told you he hasn't changed. He's Sherlock. He will always be antisocial and sour." The other boy shook his head with a frown.

"I know that one day he will realize that having no friends is a very lonely life to lead," the other boy said.

John stood there in the door frame, staring at the two boys. They obviously saw him and began to stare back.

"um, are you new?" the one boy who had shiny black hair and wore a diamond plaid sweater asked John. At first, John was tongue tied. He couldn't find any words to explain himself. A jumble of studdered noises came from his vocal cords. The two boys gave him a strange and questioning look before they looked at each other.

"is the word you are looking for yes?" the boy with the faux leather jacket and dirty blonde hair asked John, almost with a chuckle.

"yes," John agreed, smiling in relief. The boy patted the chair beside him and John hopped over and sat with a sigh.

"my name is Greg, that is Philip," the boy in pleather said, holding out his hand. John took it and gave it a hardy shake.

"my name is John," he said introducing himself. "Nice to meet you Greg and Philip."

"what school did you come from?" Philip asked. Oh no, John thought. Here come all the usual questions. The ones that usually add up to a few more personal things John really didn't want to reveal.

"Rivendel high," John replied.

"do you miss your old friends?" Philip asked.

No. Not in the slightest way.

"ya, it was a hard move," John lied. Greg and Philip nodded in sympathy. They sat there in an awkward silence for a few moments, before John brought up a burning question of his.

"so, you know Sherlock?" John queried. Philip smiled mischeviously.

"oh, we know Sherlock," he said, still grinning. Greg rolled his eyes.

"everyone knows Sherlock," He corrected. "He is known by everyone, but no one really knows him, you know what I mean."

John shook his head. Greg leaned over and cupped a hand to John's ear.

"Sherlock doesn't really have any friends," he whispered. He backed up and they all looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock sat at the corner table, his nose in a book.

"He is so unknown to anyone. He just won't let anyone get close to him. All he does is read and do crosswords in the local paper. And he is really good at them. By the break, he is finished," Philip explained. Sherlock suddenly looked up from his book, already staring straight at them. They all quickly turned back around.

"personally, I think he is a real creep," Philip said. Greg nudged him hard.

"come on, I bet he is just misunderstood," Greg said in defense. Philip shrugged.

"doubt it. Just look at the bloke," anderson said, and they all looked back at him again. Sherlock was scribbling away in a notebook now. "I still think he is a bit of a weirdo."

Greg shook off Philip's comments and patted on John on the back. "Welcome to Baker Secondary!"


	2. Then

John continued to chat with Greg and Philip until the first bell rang. By then, Mrs. Hudson had arrived and began to take attendance. John learnt that Sherlock's last name was Holmes. Now isn't that strange. His parents must have done it on purpose.

"hello, my students. My name is Mrs. Hudson. I can't wait to meet you all!" the teacher said after putting down the attendance sheet. "today, we are just going to get to know one another. Let me just number you all off..." At that, everyone gave an exasperated sigh.

"I remember when I was young and chipper like the lot of you. I loved these get to know you games!" Mrs. Hudson told the class. John was numbered a 3 and was told to go to the front left corner of the classroom. There he saw no one he knew. So far, there were only 3 others in the group. John faintly smiled at them all and then turn to face the middle of the class.

Then, he saw Sherlock begin to walk over to his group.

"is this group 3," Sherlock asked, sounding bored as all hell. John nodded silently. Sherlock stood at the edge of the group, away from the people. John decided to get acquainted with the rest of his group, seeing as no one else would start. So he extended his hand and said,"Hi, my name is John."

Through out all the games, Sherlock never partook. Mrs. Hudson decided to drop by and see how we were doing.

"has everyone here tossed the ball to someone they don't already know?" sh said, looking around the circle group 3 had made, then saw Sherlock sitting down at a near by table, his nose in a book.

"Sherlock, how many times must a teacher tell you that you must participate!" she told him. Sherlock looked up from his book, a stern look directed to his superior teacher.

"I am participating. I'm listening. Is it not the purpose of this game? To HEAR what your classmates names are?" Sherlock questioned. Mrs. Hudson shook her head as nicely as possible.

"the purpose of this game is to make some friends," mrs. Hudson said, patting his shoulder. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, please, stand with the group. It's the least you could do."

Sherlock did as he was told. Went the ball was tossed to him, he did what they were supposed to do, say your name, favorite color, and wish for this year.

"my name is Sherlock, my favorite color is - wait, why is this even relevant to getting to know me? Wouldn't a better question be something like "what is your favorite fatal virus and what you thing the best way to cure it is?" or-"

"Sherlock!" mrs. Hudson scolded. Sherlock slouched his shoulders.

"my favorite color is eggplant and my wish for the year is that I don't have to be stuck in a class of under-sensitized buffoons, once again - no offense," Sherlock said, then tossed it. "John." He caught the ball.

"my name is John, my favorite color is - uh - I don't really have one, and my wish for this year is..." John's voice faded away. His throat was closing up.

My wish for this year is to be accepted for being different.

"my wish for this year is to meet some new friends," John said, pulling together a smile to make it look convincing. "Mary." John passed the ball to the only person he remembered the name of.

They game continued until the bell rang for the next block to begin. John went through the winding halls to his next class, Drama, the class where you were supposed to be emotional and "let you feeling fly free like a butterfly". John had a very hard time with loosening up. He didn't want to really let all that out. He enjoyed it enough for him to be excited for next time, though, and at lunch, he managed to find Greg and Philip. They were sitting in the cafeteria. They actually waved him over.

"Hey John!" Greg called. John smiled and sat down with them.

"you like your classes, so far?" Philip asked. John nodded and took out his lunch money.

"hey, it's you!" said a some what familiar voice. John looked across the table, and their sat in front of him that girl. The girl who showed him the first steps into the school. The not-so-enthusiastic one.

"yeah, it's me," John said with a fainter smile.

"you know him?" Philip said, almost in a snarky way.

"yeah, this morning while I was doing that stupid volunteer job for extra credit, I helped this little guy through the hall," Sally said, reaching across the table to pat John's head. John was ready to just slap that bitch across the face, but reason restrained him, and he shook it off. John decided that was a good time to go get lunch. Today, they had a selection of sandwiches and some salad or soup for a side. John took the BLT and a small bowl of soup. When he sat back down with his new acquaintances, another sat down as well.

"well, well, WELL! Look who decided to join a social circle," Sally said, her tone so taunting, like she was pretending to show someone something, so she opens her hand - "but don't interact with us too much, Sherlock. You might get an allergic reaction." - then slaps you in the face. Philip laughed and gave Sally a high five. Sherlock, who had just sat down beside John, turned away from them all. Greg didn't look up from his door as Sally and Philip kept laughing at their sick joke.

It isn't even that funny, John thought. He couldn't see Sherlock's expression from beneath his mop of hair. Sherlock had sunken on the cafeteria bench, his face looking at his feet.

"give him a chance," Greg suddenly piped up. Sally and Philip went silent. They looked at each-other blankly, then they smiled and turned to Sherlock.

"ok then," Philip said, crossing his arms. "Do you have anything you wanted to say?"

For a moment, no one moved nor make a sound. They all looked to Sherlock, but he didn't respond. Then, he looked up, sat up straight and tall, stern gazes burning them all, and said, "I didn't."

Philip and Sally smiled smugly, seeing as they had obviously proven their point.

"but now, I do," Sherlock continued, surprising them all with the chippertone he produced. "My intention was to sit and eat lunch. For some reason, you thought I wanted to be "friends" with you. Now, let me ask YOU a question. Why would I want to be in a "social" circle with trash-talking idiots if I could go sit with a garbage can and have an exceedingly better conversation with it than I would ever have with you?"

There were no responses. John had the urge to nod exaggeratedly, so he did. Sherlock, smugly smiling, got up and left while the rest of them still had their jaws hanging on the floor. John leapt out of his seat with his lunch and followed behind swift Sherlock. He was moving so agilely around the kids in the corridors, John almost lost him. Twice.

As soon as he realized Sherlock was not slowing down, he started to call to him. Sherlock didn't even take a glance backwards.

"Sherlock, wait!" John tried again. Finally, Sherlock stopped in front of a row of lockers. Once John caught up to Sherlock, and caught up to his breath, he said, "that was - hah - a brilliant comeback."

"well," Sherlock said, beginning to fiddle with one of the locks. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to say that." John chuckled again, but then saw that Sherlock was not laughing whatsoever. John stopped abruptly. Sherlock opened a locker and John realized where they were. John opened his locker. A silence swept them both. He wanted to say something else, but couldn't think of anything witty to say to break the ice. As John ate bites of his lunch, he looked at his next block. It was PE.

"Hey," John said in an attempt to start a conversation. Sherlock looked up from his book at John. "I was just wondering if you knew what the protocol for PE attire is?" Sherlock flipped a page in his book. John blinked. Did Sherlock not hear him? Was there something he did wrong? John began to panic a little inside. He didn't want to make a bad first impression. Thoughts of all the possible ways he could have just screwed up and how he was to fix them raced around in his mind, like they were playing a jumbled game of tag, seeing which problem could be caught by which solution.

"I know," Sherlock suddenly said. "that it is the usual: runners, gym shorts and tee-shirt. What else would it be?"

John nodded then shrugged. " I don't know, could've been something I didn't know," he said honestly and innocently.

"it's common sense. The school board is in charge of the curriculum and they aply it to every school they control. Every average gym class, is there for, identical in expectation," Sherlock said, almost in a snappy way. John decided to shut up. He continued to eat and look over his schedule. After PE was English, one of his least favorite classes.

The bell rang and John went to PE class. When he got there, everyone had all ready changed. He didnt see any of his new friends there. Well, John had to rethink his friend situation. Anyway, John went to the locker room where he changed and shoved his stuff in one of the gym lockers. As on of their warm ups, they ran twice around the perimeter of the school on a timed run. John wanted to make a good first impression on the gym teacher, so he really tried to give it his all. As he ran, there was one guy who always kept passing him. No matter how many times John caught up to him, he just ran a little bit faster, just enough to piss John of, because John couldn't run that bit faster. Soon, they were separated from the pack. They were much further ahead than the rest of the class. As they completed their first lap, John began to really hate seeing the back of this thin boys head. He couldn't understand how such an average sized guy - mind you, he wasn't even that muscular - was so nimble and could just keep going like that. It made John want to run faster. So he did.

Now the end neared. You could see the finish, only half a block away. John began to take a shot at it and he bolted. The other boy, though, anticipated this, and bolted as well. They sprinted, neck in neck, until there was just a few meters left, and the boy gave it even a little bit more, passing John, and crossing the finish first. John came in second, panting like a dog.

Then, a water bottle was shoved to his face.

"here," said the boy, heavily panting as well. John accepted it and took a big swig. He handed it back, replying, "thanks."

The boy smiled and took a sip himself. They both were belt over, hearts pulsing loud as drum beats.

"you're new, aren't you?" asked the boy.

"yes," John simply replied. They huffed there in silence for a few seconds before they began to see other boys coming across the finish line.

"my name is Jim," said the boy with a smile, extending his hand out to John.

John shook his hand and smiled back. "I'm John."

"well, John, I am very impressed that you put up such a fight. Don't beat yourself up too much about it, though. No one ever beats me," Jim said. They laughed between breaths.

"do you run outside of school, I mean, in competitions and stuff?" John asked.

"no," Jim said, not looking away from John's gaze. It really made John anxious, that stare. Jim's stare made John feel like he was burning holes into his soul with his jet black eyes.

Gym seemed to go really quickly. John always had an enjoyable time in Physical Education. The bell had startled John when it sounded. When John was changing, he felt like he was being watch, which was unusual. Despite all of john's emotional insecurities, he never had a problem in the change rooms. John looked up from putting on his pants to see if he could spot the source. Looking around the room, he met the dark eyes of Jim, who casually looked away as they made contact. The discovery made John slow down. His heart skipped a beat, but he couldnt tell if that was a good thing or not. Both flattery and fear washed over him. John quickly put on his shirt.


	3. And so

As John stepped into English class, the first thing he noticed was a tall, old man with a huge grey and white beard sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. It was the most stereotypical old man he had ever seen: the hunched back, long beard, wrinkled face, and hands that moved slowly and shook every few moments. He wore a blue button up shirt with thin white strips going up the body and wore not a tie nor a bow.

For some strange reason, he has a very long stick resting against his desk. It was too long to be a walking stick, but who the heck halls around a staff, right?

As John looked for a place to sit, he found Sherlock sitting in the desk farthest away from the teacher's. John sat at the desk next to Sherlock who had his head in a book. John noticed it was the same book he had seen him in earlier. He put is binder on his desk just as the bell rang. The class room had filled itself and the teacher rose from his desk.

"all right," he boomed, shocking John quite a bit. Such a strong, powerful voice came from that old man's body, it was unbelievable. "My name is Mr. G. This is English class. When I call your name, make sure you say "present" loud and clear, all right?"

John straightened in his seat immediately. Mr. G began to list off the names alphabetically. He had called out 4 names before he called out John's name.

"Bilbo," mr. G's voice hitched. Mr. G peered over the paper and looked directly at John. "Baggins."

Oh god, that stare was brutal. John gulped before saying, "I prefer to go by John. And I am present."

"ok, John Baggins," Mr. G said, before calling the next name. John looked around the room nervously. He didn't like his first name. It just sounded so jolly, like some kind of Christmas elf. His middle name, John, was a much better alternative. Though he is required to put his legal first name on the application paper, he wished to be identified as John.

John saw a little smirk on Sherlock's face.

"what?" John demanded.

"your name-" Sherlock began to chuckle.

"I know, it sounds childish-"

"-no, you are named after a fictional character." That halted John's reply.

"what?" John said again, this time in the tone of an actual question.

"Bilbo Baggins is the name of a fictional character in a book," Sherlock said, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. John stared at him blankly.

"have you never heard of a novel called The Hobbit?" Sherlock question. John shook his head, feeling stupid doing so.

"really? I have never come across a person not knowing of this. It has been a very popular book for decades. Even movies are being made for them," Sherlock explained.

"really?" John said quite quietly. "you were named after a fictional character too!"

"nice try, John," Sherlock said dismissively.

"I'm serious! Ever heard of Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective?"

"ooh! I like the jingle of that-"

"Mr. Holmes!" Mr. G shouted. John and Sherlock turned to the front of the class where mr. G was snarling at them both. The rest of the class was silent and looking back at them. John wanted to turn into a turtle and crawl into his shell. Sherlock looked at the teacher expectantly.

"do you care to share your conversation?" Mr. G said.

"no," Sherlock said so innocently it was almost cruel. Mr. G ignored Sherlock and began his lesson.

Sherlock gave John a sideways smile. John smirked back, then directed his attention to Mr. G. Just a few seconds after, he heard Sherlock murmur something.

"pardon?" John whispered, keeping his face towards the front of the class.

"mr. G is going to make us read the hobbit," Sherlock whispered back, keeping his face to the board as well.

"you're pulling my leg," John said, turning to face Sherlock.

"you better believe it," Sherlock said, snapping attention to John. John gave Sherlock a disbelieving raised eyebrow.

"prove it," John said. A slow, giddy grin weaseled across Sherlock's lips. John felt them both hold their breath for just a brief moment right before Sherlock said, "when I walked in the classroom I saw him reading a book. It was small and on the thinner side of novels. I assumed it was a children's book. It was old, judging by the binding. The matterial was fraying and degrading. When I walked past, I saw that the font was rather small so I knew it wasn't a young children's novel, it was a preteen novel. Then a word caught my eye. The word "Elvish". What kind of story writes the word elvish? So let us have a recapitulation: preteen reading level, old, medium length, and the word elvish. Lord of the rings. But lord of the rings is thicker. I looked at the cover of the book and only managed to see the first three letters of the title: HOB. Then it was obvious. It was the Hobbit."

John blinked. "but wouldn't it have been easier to look at the cover when he put it down on his desk?"

"well, what fun is that?"

"MR. HOLMES."

John and Sherlock looked back to the board. Mr. G scowled at them.

"what did I just say?" mr. G question.

"mr. Holmes," Sherlock answered.

"before that!" mr. G shouted.

"you were telling us that we are going to write a book report on The Hobbit."

Mr. G pouted. He silently stared at Sherlock.

"and?"

Sherlock went silent, staring blankly at Mr. G. The whole room was silent. Mr. G gave Sherlock time to answer. They stared at each-other intensely.

Then, Sherlock said, "this is a pair assignment."

Mr. G tilted his head down, continuing to stare at Sherlock.

"very good. As I said, we will work on this in pairs. Here is an outline of the assingment," mr. G walked over and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, then handed a pile to the front desk of every row. John looked to Sherlock who was smiling to himself contently.

"It was just a guess," Sherlock told John. John chuckled and turned back to his face his row.

"amazing," John mumbled. They got the papers and mr. G began to explain the assingment.

"so, what you are going to do is read the book, together. Then, write a 2,000 word paper about the moral of the story, each. In total, you should have a paper of 4,000 words. Support your reasons, whatever they may be. Here is the catch, you must. Get a perspective of three outside people. Outside meaning people who are not in this assignment. I would like at least one of these people to be an adult. Watching the movie does not count as reading the novel. If I find that you have done this, as it wil be obvious by your write up, your paper will be burned," Mr. G explained. "questions? Oh, and this will be most of your term 1 mark, I believe it was 80%. And you can choose your own partners. Begin."

The class began to bustle with chatter as kids got up to pick their partners. John began to feel confused about how he was to find someone to work with, until Sherlock tapped him on the shoulder.

"partners?" he asked. John nodded with a smile.

"if you need the book, you can borrow one for the assignment. They are at the board in an open box," Mr. G yelled over to voices of student. John went to grab a copy. They were all brand new with shiny covers. As John walks back to Sherlock, he sees him talking with a girl. For what he could see, she had long, black hair and she wore a fitted white shots leaved blouse. She was facing away and John examined Sherlock's expression. His face was neutral but intensely gazing down at her. A little prong of emotion stabbed in Johns gut. It felt bad, as if he were jealous... But he wasn't. And he couldn't. Because he didn't.

"excuse me," he said as he slid past the girl and stood between them. He looked at Sherlock for a moment, then handed him a book.

"ok, I guess we should start reading now-"

"you're new," the girl said rather bluntly. John turned to her. He was trying his best to ignore the fact that she was even there.

"yes, I am," John replied as politely as possible, pretending to not be annoyed by her statement. It obviously didn't work on her. She devilishly sneered and her eyes saw right through him.

"I will leave you two, then. Text me, Sherlock," she said before turning on the balls of her feet and trotting off across the classroom. John swore she saw her make kissy lips directed in Sherlock's way before she left.

She made god damn kissy lips.

John looked back at Sherlock who's gaze was following Irene. His face was blank and John didn't know what to make of it.

"so, the book," John said, breaking the silence between them. Sherlock snapped back and his attention returned to John.

"yes, I will begin," Sherlock offered, swooping up the book and deftly opening it to the first chapter. As he began to read, John began to feel tingly, like dad-long-leg spiders were crawling up him. Sherlock did have that narrative voice, but John was surprised that his body reacted so. Sherlock read about 10 pages, then asked John to read. As John picked up where Sherlock left off, he still felt that tingly sensation.

Sherlock's eyes began to float away from John. John looked up, still resisting the words from the page. Sherlock's eyes were looking over John's shoulder. John suddenly felt a prang in his gut and blurted, "who is she?"

Sherlock was taken aback by John's bit of sass in his tone. They stared at each-other intensely. John waited impatiently for an answer as Sherlock just stared.

"Irene is a friends," Sherlock finally answered, then looked back down at the book.

"are you sure?" John questioned. Sherlock looked up, again, quiet amused by the fact that he didn't understand what John ment.

"I am positive," Sherlock said.

"you know what? Just be quiet smart ass. It's your turn to read."

Sherlock shook his head in confusing, his curls bouncing around before resting in their places.

Then, he began. That tingling feeling came back to John again. His feet itched. The temptation to take off his shoes was so strong.

"ok everyone, enough for today!" mr. G shouted out of the blue. He stood up quickly from his desk, as if he had a phobia of chairs.

"everyone is dismissed," he announced. John and Sherlock began to pack up when he added, "except for you two." as he pointed at Sherlock and John with one of his bony, old-man fingers.

"I have a few things to say to you two."


End file.
